


Mommy’s Blunt Little Instrument

by Ophelia_Yvette



Series: Emma Winchester Week (2021) [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alive Emma (Supernatural: Slice Girls), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29268255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophelia_Yvette/pseuds/Ophelia_Yvette
Summary: Emma is in pain, at conflict with her human half and her amazon half.Day 5: Pain
Relationships: Emma & Lydia (Supernatural: Slice Girls), Emma (Supernatural: Slice Girls) & Dean Winchester
Series: Emma Winchester Week (2021) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141931
Kudos: 6





	Mommy’s Blunt Little Instrument

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Supernatural, which is trademarked by The CW. Furthermore, I do *not* profit financially from the creation and publication of this story. It is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line!

_They told me I had to endure pain so I could be strong like them. But I don’t want to be like them._

Emma watched the fire burning before her with a rather blank expression. All the woman and girls she’d been raised with were now nothing more than a pile of slowly incinerating corpses. Even her mother, a fact which hurt more than she was willing to admit, was dead. 

All of them doomed to an endless twilight with no hope in sight. 

She almost didn’t feel the hand on her shoulder, with how close she was standing to the fire. She didn’t hear the words of then person at first, too absorbed in the sounds of the cackling for the fire and the crunching of bones. It was only when she noticed the British inflection did she stiffen.

“Cheer up,” Came the voice of Mick Davies, trying and failing miserably to be comforting, “at least they can’t hurt you anymore.” 

Emma looked up at him with a jaded, haunted expression. The gold of her eyes flared in the firelight as it flickered across her face. She had to stop herself from smirking when he took a small step back from her.

“I am the last of my kind,” She said as she turned back from the flames, “I just wanted to know why I was different. And now I never well.”

“Well in America anyway,” Mick said as he saw Dean Winchester walking up to them, “they’re still quite strong in Greece actually.”

“Hey kid,” Dean said as he sidestepped Mick, “how you holding up?”

“I’ll — uh — leave you to it.” Mick said as he spotted Ketch, being treated at the makeshift medical tent.

Emma didn’t respond as her father moved into her space and placed an arm around her shoulder.

“Did you kill him?” She murmured quietly.

Her father’s heavy sigh was enough of an answer for her.

“His back up arrived before I could,” Dean replied darkly, “but if he ever shows his face around here again he _won’t_ be getting a second shot.”

Emma pressed herself to her father’s side.

“Am I a monster?” She whispered, “Do I deserve to burn like my mother and sisters.”

“Kiddo hey,” Dean said as he crouched to his daughter’s level and cupped her face in his hands, “listen to me. You aren’t like them, you’re _my_ daughter. You might share their DNA but you also share mine. They killed people for sport, you — you _aren’t_ a killer. You’re a sweet, kind, girl who loves her family and doesn’t hurt anyone without reason.”

The glassy, haunted look in his daughter’s did nothing to put Dean at ease.

“You are not a monster,” He reassured her, wiping away her tears, “baby, you are a child, _my_ child, who was forced to grow up too fast. But I do not think of you as a monster, I never could.”

“I know,” She replied, her voice. “I know, it’s just—“

She took a shuttering breath.

“I can’t help but think I belong there with them. To atone for my sins. For all the people I’ve hurt and the pain I’ve caused I—“

Dean pulled her to his chest and slowly Emma’s arms came around him. She squeezed him tight and Dean his best not to show his discomfort with the tightness of her hug. She was so fragile that one one wrong move and she might break.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Dean said as he struggled to lift her into his arm, slowly walking away from the flames. “you never have to be sorry for being who you are.”

She looked up at him with her big, tearful, doe eyes.

“I’m just grateful you and Uncle Sam didn’t shoot me that day.”

Dean’s heart all but shattered at that. He squeezed his daughter sight and set her in the Impala. He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Emma sniffed and Dean wiped her face with his hand, snot and all.

“Kids aren’t supposed to be grateful,” He told her seriously, “They're supposed to eat your food and break your heart. I don’t want you to be grateful that we didn’t kill you, because I would have never been able to do it in the first place.

“But Uncle Sam could have.” She whispered, her words hanging heavily between them.

“But he didn’t.” Dean reminded her as he stood, “focus on that.”

Emma nodded as her Uncle Sam approached him.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Dean looked to Emma who nodded to him. He reluctantly moved off to the side to talk to Sam. Far enough that Emma wouldn’t hear but close enough that none of the Brits could get any funny ideas.

Emma looked at her wrist, which was a soft orangey color from the large fire several feet away. It was angry and red, like the day she’d received it. And it hurt like hell too, not that she was going to tell her father that. 

As her sisters and her mother burned, so too she did.

Even as the Brits started to put out the fire, the burning didn’t go away. Slowly, Emma began to pick at the mark pulling the skin away from her flesh until it was nothing more than a red, angry, hole in her arm.

for a moment, Emma didn’t know what to do. She just stared at the brand that had adorned her wrist for so long. She didn’t know what this mean, for her brand to basically detach itself from her skin, almost melting like the bodies before her did. 

The only thing she knew for certain was that she was gonna have one hella of a scar.

Did this make her a monster? Or a human? Emma wasn’t sure. But she certainly felt like she was somewhere in-between. 

“Jesus,” Sam gasped as he and Dean came back saw her arm, “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

“Emmy,” Her father breathed as he gently grabbed her arm, “what happened? I look away for one second…”

“I don’t know what happened,” She sniffed, “It burned and I — I wanted it gone! And then, as I picked at it, the skin around the Mark just came off…like it was melting. I — I don’t know what it means…”

She was starring at past him, at the shouldering remains of her tribe.

“Well whatever it is,” Dean said as he grabbed the first aid kit from Sam, “we’ll figure it out together. Just the three of us.” 

Emma nodded, wincing in pain as her father began to clean the wound. 


End file.
